Archive for Easter

It’s been twenty months…twenty months…since I’ve really let myself trip, stumble, and generally get all out of sorts over stupid things.

Well, let’s be honest: it’s been twenty months since I’ve decided to tell you about it.

This Lent I gave up shopping at three of my favorite places: Costco [where each item deposited in your cart is about $10], Target [where you want to spend about $10 but easily dole out $210], and the mall [where you skip the math and get out the plastic].

Five weeks later, I think all this non-shopping has started to catch up with me. I fear I may have developed a few ticks and eye twitches during this off-season, something that has only worsened as I peruse the latest Crate & Barrel catalog and faithfully dog ear every-0ther-page [as ifI really could buy all these things if I wanted, but it’s just a matter of locating my purse that’s stopping me].

Sheez.

I’ll admit it: I look around and still love this house, but I’m starting to see the flaws more than the smile lines. I’m wishing for new countertops…and an ice maker in a fridge with a little more consistency than the slacker we have now. I can imagine a new backsplash with glossy subway tiles like you see on Dear Genevieve. I can effortlessly imagine away our stained carpet and replace it with the gleam of wall-to-wall hickory floors.

I know this discontent is shallow and worthless and completely without perspective. I know that the “Finley Pendant Lamp” I’d like above our dining room table isn’t going to make me happy, give me a flat stomach, make me funnier, or help me be a better friend. [Although I would like to argue that it would make our dinners a lot more stylish].

So why this lure? Why so many dog-eared pages?

I think I’m fooled into believing that if I own the Stoneware Potluck Bakers in “Paprika, Turquoise, and Yellow” that I’ll actually bake tasty dinners. And possibly be invited to potlucks.

I’m fooled into thinking that if I have the vases on page 18, I really will make more of an effort to arrange cut flowers weekly. Maybe even start a garden.

I’m drawn into this world of order, cleanliness, and new possibilities–as though an office desk equals a book contract or a chaise lounge equals the freedom to…lounge.

I’m drawn into thinking that these things would give me what I want and what I think I need.

And so this cycle of mental wrestling and pseudo-shopping bring me back to Lent–back to the reason I’m not shopping and back to the reason why I shouldn’t even be looking at catalogs: because during this season of preparation, I need to work on my heart. Work on desires that aren’t evil or sinful in themselves, but that give birth to so much more than I want floating around in my brain.

Balancing these things and staying twitch-free is something I’ll probably never master. For some it’s food and others it’s cigarettes and still others, alcohol. For me, this year, it’s Crate & Barrel.

But always, there’s the promise of grace. And this Lent, I’m realizing just how much I need it.

~

What are you learning about yourself this Lent? How are you being stretched or changed?

I’ve never been a big “shopper”…if by shopper you’re picturing a classy, well-manicured Breakfast at Tiffany’s30-something clicking through the mall with a bouquet of bags bursting from the nook in her elbow.

I prefer flip-flops and I’m not all that classy.

Despite my efforts to be cute and semi-fashion-informed, the truth is that I’m just average. I’ve been in jeans for the better part of my life, and until the loving intervention of my friend a few years ago, those jeans were famously paired with turtlenecks on a daily basis. What can I say? I like to be warm and I like to be comfortable.

What I’ve been learning, however, is that shopping doesn’t have to happen at Banana Republic or Kohl’s for it to start cutting into your budget. Your handbag obsession is my Costco bill–and my Target splurge is your pair of designer jeans. It’s all the same to the bank.

I remember a couple of months ago my parents stopped over and I excitedly said to them, “Guess what I got today?!” My mom said something like, “I don’t know Jane, you’re always getting something.” Now, this comment was flippant and lighthearted, [don’t worry mom–you didn’t hurt my feelings]—- but it DID make me think. Am I really turning into that girl? That “shopper”?

How many times have I gone to the store for deodorant and toothpaste and left spending $100? And don’t even get me started on Costco! You can safely bet that each item you deposit in your cart is going to cost you $10. Their food testers lure and their kids’ clothes are cheap and their books such a bargain! It’s a regular merry-go-round of delight and I sign up for a ride way too often.

Generally these “extras” are justified by pointing out that they’re not for me, they’re for our kids. For instance, I found a couple of $5 videos which I reasoned would be perfect for our upcoming vacation. Since we’re driving, we’d better have entertainment after all! Then I stumbled upon some squirt guns and water balloons. What a fun mom I am, I told myself. Of course all the Easter goodies are out, so I had to scoop up a few of those items–for the kids, you know. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

So where does it end?

For me, it’s ending this Lent. I’ve given up the holy trinity of shopping: Target, Costco, AND the mall. Now, I wouldn’t stand in the way of my husband popping in for a mega-box of granola bars at the Warehouse, but I’m not going to go in. It’s too easy for me to see the variety of sparkly, fun things and try to justify why we need them.

Like I did with our snorkeling equipment. [see? fun mom in Florida, right?]

The truth of the matter is that even though we can pay our bills and God has blessed us with some rainy day money, there’s no need for me to aimlessly wander the aisles grabbing things at whim. There’s no need to store up treasures here when so many people are scraping along with less than basic essentials. And what does it teach my children about instant gratification or patience if I’m piling up purchases myself?

So this Lent is bigger than shopping. It’s really all about contentment. It’s about praying the words of Paul and really striving to walk in the direction of the peace he talks about:

“If we have food and covering, with these we will be content.”

I Tim 6:8

What are you working on this Lenten Season? Have you felt convicted to make some changes in your life?

My husband calls me a recycling maniac. I prefer to consider myself a “wise recycler” or “earth-conscious mother.” I’ll leave the title “maniac” to the kids, little angels though they are 😉

At any rate, I’ve been in the habit of saving egg cartons because once-upon-a-time, my farm-living, egg-selling sister re-used them at her roadside stand. Now that hard times have hit small organic businesses, they only produce enough eggs for their family and have shunned my monthly donation of double-digit cartons.

I suppose I can’t blame her. I mean, if you aren’t packaging up farm-fresh eggs of all sizes and colors, what IS one to do with oodles of cartons?

Thanks to my Aunt Barb’s crafty ways, I have an answer! Make adorable baby chicks for your Easter mantle! And, depending on how heavily-stocked your art bin is, you may very well be able to birth these beauties for free!

To adopt your own family of Baby Chicks:

1. Cut egg cartons apart. I chose to do rows of 3 chicks, still connected, but you may modify according to your needs.

2. Next, using either yellow cotton balls or colored pom-poms from your local craft store, glue one pouf into the carton and a second one on top [like a snowman.] We used Elmer’s glue rather than a glue stick [which is always fun with kids].

Looking for something?

Donate

Free MMM Printables…

Monday Morning Meditations is a weekly linkup I host to get women into the Word. Grab or Pin your printables from MMM!

:: :: :: :: ::In some ways this blog feels more like my beach house than anything else: it's a place for me to turn my face to the sun, breathe a little more deeply, and write about the faith journey.
My kids are playing happily and I'm waiting for you. Won't you come in?